What Does Genesis Have To Do With Darwin?
What if Genesis was never meant to answer modern questions?
Growing up in a Charismatic Evangelical setting, I was repeatedly told that God’s word was inspired and authoritative. This conviction was tightly bound to the idea that the Bible is perfect and without error—in other words, that divine inspiration necessitated inerrancy.
But after deconstructing my faith, I’ve had to revisit what inspiration really means. It was questions at the intersection of science and Scripture—particularly around evolution—that first began to unravel my old assumptions. And yet, what I’ve discovered is that the authority of Scripture doesn’t collapse if we embrace scientific insight. Quite the opposite—it can deepen.
In this article, I want to argue that the Bible is not threatened by evolution or any other scientific theory. Why? Because Scripture was never meant to be a science book or even a history book in the modern sense. It was meant to do something far deeper.
Is Genesis Meant to Be History?
A common view in many evangelical circles is that Genesis 1–11 should be read as a historical narrative, just like the rest of Genesis. Defenders of this view typically point to a few arguments:
The genealogical lists woven throughout the text
The prose style of the narrative
The polemical relationship between Genesis and other ancient Near Eastern (ANE) creation myths
The fact that New Testament figures, like Jesus and Paul, reference Genesis
I’ve addressed some of these points more fully in a previous article responding to Wayne Grudem, but I’ll briefly revisit them here.
Genealogies in Context
In the ancient Near East, genealogies weren’t just lists of ancestors—they were theological and political tools. They grounded communities in sacred origins, reinforced tribal identity, and often carried symbolic meaning. For instance, Matthew’s genealogy of Jesus is shaped to show Him as the fulfillment of Israel’s story—not to give us a strict biological lineage.
In that light, the genealogies in Genesis 1–11 serve to connect Israel’s sacred history with a cosmic origin story—not necessarily to provide a scientific or historical chronology.
Prose ≠ Modern History
Yes, Genesis is written in prose, but that doesn’t mean it’s modern historiography. Many ancient myths, such as the Enuma Elish or the Epic of Gilgamesh, also used prose to explore theology, cosmology, and human purpose. In the ancient world, story was the vehicle for truth, not an obstacle to it.
A Polemic, Not a Break
Genesis does challenge the Babylonian worldview, but that doesn’t mean it stands entirely outside of its cultural context. Most Old Testament scholars agree that Genesis reflects ANE views of the cosmos.
Take Genesis 1, for example: it describes God separating the waters above from the waters below using a solid dome—the firmament. This idea made sense in the ancient world, where people believed the sky was a hard surface holding back cosmic waters. Today, we know better. We send rockets through that space. We understand atmospheric layers. Genesis reflects the best cosmology available at the time—not divine dictation of scientific facts.
So while Scripture is often countercultural in moral or theological ways, we shouldn't assume it’s countercultural in every way—especially when it comes to ancient science.
But What About Jesus and Paul?
It’s true that both Jesus and Paul refer to Genesis. But quoting Genesis doesn't mean they were affirming it as literal, modern history. They were first-century Jews shaped by the intellectual and theological world of their time. It’s unlikely they had a scientifically modern view of the cosmos. Their references to Genesis make perfect sense within their theological framework—just not necessarily within a 21st-century scientific one.
What Kind of History Is Genesis?
If we’re honest, we wouldn’t call a text "history" today if it described talking animals, magical plants, or humans formed from dust and ribs. So why do we make an exception for Genesis? The answer often lies in our assumptions about biblical inspiration and inerrancy.
But there’s another way.
Genesis can still be “historical”—just not in the way modern readers expect. In the ancient world, myth and history weren’t opposites. Myth wasn’t about fiction—it was about meaning. It was a way of expressing deep, communal truths through symbolic characters, cosmic archetypes, and theological storytelling.
Genesis 1–11, then, may not be literal history—but it’s real in the sense that it tells us something true: about creation, about humanity, about brokenness, and about the God who calls chaos into order.
God’s Two Books: Scripture and Nature
Christian tradition has long spoken of two revelations: the book of Scripture and the book of Nature. The Bible reveals who God is, why the world matters, and how we are to live in it. Nature reveals the grandeur, complexity, and beauty of God’s creative work. As Psalm 19 beautifully puts it:
"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands."
So how should these two books relate?
They are not in competition. Scripture gives us the theological lens to understand the world’s meaning, while science describes its mechanisms—the how and the when. One offers purpose, the other offers process.
This is known as a non-concordist approach: the idea that Scripture and science don’t need to be harmonized verse-by-verse because they’re answering different kinds of questions. The Bible is an ancient text doing ancient things—yet it still speaks with power and relevance today. But it does so by addressing who we are and why we’re here—not by offering scientific descriptions of how planets form or species evolve.
Both books—Scripture and Nature—ultimately lead us to the same God.
Final Thoughts
Genesis isn’t threatened by evolution. Scripture isn’t undone by astronomy or biology. In fact, embracing scientific insight can push us to read the Bible more faithfully—not less.
We don’t honor Scripture by forcing it to say what it was never meant to say. We honor it by listening to it on its own terms, in its own context, and allowing it to shape us through the ancient-yet-living word it offers.
Science tells us about the world.
Scripture tells us why it matters.
Together, these two books can lead us into deeper awe, humility, and worship.
About the Author
I’m a writer and theologian passionate about the intersection of science and faith, open and relational theology, and spiritual reconstruction. You can subscribe for future essays as I write about my own musings over the deep questions surrounding God, Faith, and Human Existence
just finished your piece on Scripture and evolution and wanted to thank you for such a thoughtful and well-crafted reflection. You manage to hold reverence for Scripture and openness to science in a way that feels both grounded and generous.
Your discussion of ancient cosmology, symbolic truth, and the purpose of Genesis—rather than its literal mechanics—really resonated with me. I especially appreciated the reminder that myth, in the ancient sense, was not about fiction but about meaning.
As I read, I found myself wondering: what does it mean to read Genesis today—not just in light of evolution or astronomy, but in light of AI, genetic engineering, and quantum physics? We’re now shaping life in ways the ancients could never have imagined. We’re writing code that learns, editing genes that pass through generations, and exploring dimensions of time and matter that make Eden look almost quaint.
And yet, the Genesis story still speaks. The question of what it means to be human, what it means to create, to name, to fall, to seek reconciliation—these are as urgent as ever.
I’d love to see the kind of work you’re doing extended into this next frontier. What might Genesis teach us not just about the origins of life—but about the moral shape of our participation in it now?
If you’d ever like to hear some of my thoughts on this, I’d be happy to share them.
Thank you again for the piece. I look forward to reading more.